


Croup

by SeriouslySam



Series: Moments in Time [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Neglect, Illness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25748746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeriouslySam/pseuds/SeriouslySam
Summary: It was a sound that Petunia Dursley hated to hear come from her nephew. Of course, he was just like her freaky sister.
Relationships: Petunia Evans Dursley/Vernon Dursley
Series: Moments in Time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800097
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60





	Croup

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Arnel for beta-ing for me. This moment in time was mentioned in the multi-chaptered story "Brontide."
> 
> Please, don't forget to leave a review. It's a small payment for the hours an author spends agonizing over their stories. It takes less than a minute. Thank you for the support.

" **Croup"**

Petunia Dursley knew what the sound was as soon as she had heard it. She could remember, very distinctly, her freaky little sister making the same barking cough every time she was sick as a small child. Whatever virus or cold she had always seemed to develop into croup. It was like that until she was at least four years old. She could remember her mother rushing her to the Accident and Emergency Department with worry etched onto her face. She could remember sitting outside on the back deck with her mother and sister on the cool nights while her sister struggled to breathe.

Sitting up in bed, blinking away the cobwebs of sleep, the barking cough made her heart still. Her mind instantly went to Dudley. She had to take him to hospital immediately, get a breathing treatment, stand watch over his bed after they got home to ensure he didn't succumb to another fit. She could remember her mother always fretting that her sister's airway would close completely. How their mother would sit up all night just watching the little freak to make sure she never turned blue and could always breathe.

"What _is_ that noise?" Vernon mumbled sleepily.

"It's Dudley! He has croup! Vernon, he needs a breathing treatment at the hospital!"

Petunia frantically pushed the blankets off her. She pulled the nightgown off over her head and rummaged frantically through her closet for a day dress and cardigan. The hospital was always so unnaturally cold. She would have to grab a sweater for Dudley to put over his pajamas. They'd be there a few hours at least. She could remember sitting in the parlor with her father during the nights when the croup was bad enough to warrant an A&E visit.

"What the ruddy hell is croup?" Vernon inquired as he sat up in bed.

"It's when the airway closes up in small children! Honestly, Vernon!" Petunia huffed as she pulled on a pair of socks and her white, canvas tennis shoes.

The barking cough seemed to be getting louder and more bark-ish by the second. Petunia's heart raced as she ran her fingers through her blonde hair and forwent brushing it. It would take too long and it was two in the morning. Nobody would surely see her, would they? Even if they had, her child couldn't _breathe_. Surely, nobody would think badly about her appearance.

"Well, get going!" Vernon demanded as he punched his pillow twice before collapsing back down onto the mattress. "How long are you going to be? Do I have to take a day off to watch the freak or can I go to work in the morning?"

"I should be home in time unless they admit Dudley. I'll call you if he's admitted."

"Wait until it's daylight if that's the case," Vernon grumbled into the pillow.

"Honestly, Vernon, are you not concerned at all? His airway could close completely!" Petunia jeered as she grabbed her purse from the winged armchair.

"You're taking him to the A&E, Petunia, so I'm sure he will be just fine. He's a Dursley, sturdy like his old man."

Petunia suppressed a groan as she snatched the keys off the dresser. She dashed out the door and rushed to Dudley's bedroom. She wretched open the door to see Dudley sleeping soundly. The panic eased, the knots in her stomach unraveled, and then annoyance seeped through her. The barking cough occurred again and Petunia whipped her head around to sneer at the stairs.

It would be _him_. He was just like _her_. Backing slowly out of her son's room, she closed the door as quietly as she could so she wouldn't wake her darling. She felt her chest heaving as she stormed down the steps. She would be damned if she took him to hospital at this hour of the night unless he turned blue. She knew she'd have to sit up all night with him already to make sure he didn't _die_. She slammed her purse and the keys down on the table by the front door before making her way down the hallway.

She slid the chain off the cupboard door and wretched it open. Her freaky little nephew sat on the mattress curled up in a ball. His cheek rested against his knee. She could hear the labored breathing between the barking coughs. He looked pale but not blue so that was one good thing at least. His big, green eyes squinted up at her pathetically.

"Get up!" she hissed. "Come on, I don't want to be up all night!"

He was tiny for his age. Freakishly small, of course. What else could be expected? He couldn't even _look_ normal for a nearly three-year-old. He was half the size Dudley was. He rose on shaky legs and exited the cupboard. Of course, he forgot his glasses. He was always laying them about and forgetting to put them on his face. He was just _begging_ for them to get broken. Absolutely ungrateful.

"Get your glasses!" Petunia seethed through clenched teeth. "Do you think that glasses grow on a glasses tree and are always readily available if you lose them or they get broken? That's not how the world works, Boy! You get one pair of glasses and you're expected to take care of them! No wonder I don't buy you any new clothes or things! You'll lay them about just asking for them to get lost or broken. It's not worth it!"

"Sowwy," he wheezed, "Aunt 'Tunia."

He shuffled back into the cupboard with another annoyingly loud barky cough. His hand shook as he placed the glasses onto his face. He wiped his arm across his sweaty forehead as he stepped back out of the cupboard. He looked up at her expectantly because he always wanted something. She slapped a hand against his forehead. He flinched under her touch initially but then became very still. She could feel the heat radiating off him.

Petunia sucked in a breath. She retracted her hand and wiped the sweat on the back of her hand onto her cardigan. She glared down at him as he pushed his glasses up his sweaty nose. He looked just like _him_ , that freakish father of his. The same messy, inky black hair. The terrible eyesight. Even his ungrateful tone was the same.

_"James Potter. It's so, so, so nice to meet you finally, Petunia. I've heard ever so much about you,"_ his mocking voice filled her head. She could even picture the shite-eating grin on his face. The way his hand messed up his hair as though he was the height of cool. _"Tell me, is this Vincent I've heard so much about going to be joining us tonight as well? I really want to meet him. I hear he's the most pleasant bloke around. An absolute riot."_

She could picture her freaky sister sniggering behind her hand as she leaned up against his side. She could remember the way her parents practically _fawned_ over the boy, calling him charming and witty. Petunia saw through the act – saw him for who he truly was. Another self-absorbed and unpleasant freak just like her sister. They fit together perfectly like some water damaged puzzle. Their son was just as strange, just as unpleasant, just as self-absorbed as they had always been.

She grabbed the boy by his bicep and tugged him along through the kitchen to the back door. She slid open the sliding glass door and felt the slight sting of the brisk May air on her face. She looked down at the boy briefly to see him in a pair of gray sweatpants and a red t-shirt. He'd be fine. The sleeves of the t-shirt came down to his elbows. The brisk air would do his airway some good.

"Sit down," she hissed.

She let go on his arm and he stumbled slightly. He sat down on the steps of the back deck and wrapped his arms across his chest. His knees drew to his chest. A shuddering, noisy breath escaped his lips before another barky cough sounded throughout the back garden. She winced at the noise.

"I'm going to make some tea. Sit here and don't move."

Petunia stormed back inside and slammed the back door closed louder than she intended to. She grabbed the kettle off the stove and filled it with water from the faucet. She looked out the back window to see the boy's messy head leaning against the post of the railing. She bit down the desire to shout at him to sit up straight. She was too tired to deal with him. She slapped the spigot off before settling the kettle back on the stove and turning on the burner.

She leaned her back against the counter and curled her fingers around the lip of the countertop. She breathed in and out several times to try to calm herself down. Closing her eyes, she involuntarily pictured two red plaits and sad green eyes looking up at her.

_"Tuney, I don't feel good,"_ the childish voice rang in her head.

She could almost feel the little arms wrap around her neck and the small button nose pressing into her throat. Petunia was four years older than _she_ had been. She could remember, with clarity, those long nights sitting on the back deck. She could remember blowing bubbles, performing tricks with a hula hoop, and reciting silly rhymes she had learned at primary school to pass the time. If Petunia concentrated enough, she could even hear her sister's fits of laughter between the fits of wheezing and coughs.

_"Tuney, sit with me, please?"_

Petunia opened her eyes and stared at a speck of dirt on her countertop. She couldn't bear to see the redheaded girl that seemed to be burned into her eyelids anymore. They had been close at one point before _she_ had to ruin it all. She started hanging out with that nasty boy and then went off to that freakish school. She caused the rift between them, blasted a hole so big that it had been beyond repair.

What little strings that held them together had been severed at her wedding to Vernon. It was the last time she ever even saw her sister. She had been eighteen and Petunia had been twenty-two. She had brought that Potter boy with her. Petunia remembered his mocking laugh, his snide comments, and the way her sister had laughed at all of his poorly constructed jokes at Petunia's expense.

_"Tuney, I love you."_

The faint, barking cough sounded again. A shuddering sigh escaped Petunia's lips as her eyes flickered to the back window again. She _hated_ that her nephew called her 'Tunia as though he was incapable of saying all the syllables of her name. It was too close to Tuney for her liking. Her jaw clenched at the mere memory of the name. She would have to beat that habit out of him. Make him enunciate like a normal child.

The kettle whistled. Instantly, she lifted it off the burner so she wouldn't wake up her husband or son. She poured the tea into a cup before making her way to the fridge to add a splash of milk. She made her way back to the sliding glass door that led to the back garden.

He was still leaning against the post. Except, it wasn't just his head that rested against the wood but the whole right side of his body was slumped against it like he was some sort of drunk hooligan. She sucked in a breath as she continued to watch him. He shivered from the brisk night air but the barking coughs seemed to have lessened. She may luck out and not have to waste her night away at the A&E.

Through pursed lips, she sipped on her tea as she continued to watch him. She didn't understand why he couldn't just be _normal_. He was already showing signs just like her sister had. Small things that she doubted Vernon even noticed yet. She had though. The way objects seemed to tremble just slightly around him when he was upset. The way the door to his cupboard would slam shut behind him if he was in trouble. The way the flowers seemed to bloom at the slightest touch from him. They way all the spiders in the house seemed to be drawn to him and let him touch them. She once saw him pick up an abnormally large spider in the back garden. He whispered to it as he took his free hand and ran it along the thing's black body. Petunia shuddered at the memory.

She continued to sip her tea until it was gone. She walked over to the sink and sat the teacup inside. She prepared herself to talk to the boy and ensure he was still breathing. It had been a good half hour of him sitting outside in the cold air. It should be enough time to open up his airways. She slid open the back door but the boy didn't look back. She could hear him wheezing slightly still with a mixture of soft snores escaping his lips. He _would_ fall asleep outside like some freak.

She squatted down and peered at him. He still looked pale but seemed relatively fine. She continued to listen to his labored breathing but was satisfied that the barking coughs were gone. She debated about just letting him spend the night outside but didn't want the neighbors to see him sleeping on the back step in the morning. His limbs were rigid with cold as his muscles twitched involuntarily. She could see the goosebumps on his exposed arms. His toes were curled up in an attempt to disappear underneath the too long sweatpants.

She sighed before reaching out a hand to shake him awake. Her fingers curled around his bicep tightly, her nails digging into his skin slightly, and she shook him.

"Wake up! Honestly!" she snapped in a low tone so none of the neighbors could hear her.

He jerked awake, his eyes unfocused and glassy. Another barky cough escaped his lips as his whole body seemed to shudder from the force. He looked up at her before his gaze lowered to the hand on his arm. His bottom lip slid between his teeth.

"Sowwy, Aunt 'Tunia," his childish voice rang as his big, green eyes looked back at her.

" _PUH-_ tunia. You always cut off the beginning of my name," she snarled in a dangerously low voice. "Don't you even have enough respect for me to even say my name correctly?"

He blinked owlishly at her, his dark brows disappeared underneath his glasses, and his mouth opened in an O-shape. Petunia shoved down more annoyance as she glared at him. Did he really not even know he was mispronouncing her name? She didn't know what she did in life to deserve him as a burden.

"Get inside, now."

She let go of his arm and stood up stiffly. She closed the cardigan tighter around her frame as he stood up. He bowed his head and stared at his toes sticking out from underneath the rolled-up hem of the sweatpants. She sighed loudly before she made her way to the back door. She could hear him following dutifully behind her. Once he was back in the house, she slid the door closed and locked it.

"Aunt 'Tunia, I don't feel good," he whispered and continued to stare at his feet.

Petunia stiffened and turned around to look at him. Her eyes narrowed and bore into his messy locks. There was always a spot that stuck up straight in the back. It was something that irritated her greatly. No matter what she did, it would never lie flat.

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" she asked shrilly. "Everyone gets sick. It's not like you're special and won't ever get sick."

He looked up at her. Those piercing green eyes swam with tears but the wetness never touched his cheeks. He knew better than to cry in front of her. Petunia crossed her arms over her chest. Her heavy breathing matched his labored breathing.

"Fine, I'll get you some medicine."

She turned on her heel and went to the corner cabinet until she came across the children's acetaminophen. She poured some of the red liquid into the premeasured cup. She marched over to him and held out the cup to him. He took it and drank it in one gulp. He handed back the cup with a wrinkled expression that slid his glasses down to the tip of his nose. His hand shot up to push them back up instantly.

"Go to your cupboard and go back to bed. Try not to cough and wake up the whole house again. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Aunt 'Tunia," he squeaked quietly, his voice sounding disappointed and dejected.

" _PUH-_ tunia. How many times do you have to be told?"

His lip quivered slightly as he blinked up at her.

"Go. To. Bed," she seethed.

He bowed his head and retreated from the kitchen. His feet shuffled across the kitchen tile and his hands shot out to push the kitchen door open. He disappeared.

Petunia groaned as she rinsed out the medicine cup before sitting it on the side of the sink to air dry. She grabbed a sponge and started scrubbing her kitchen counters just to calm herself down from the night's interactions. By the time she was finished, it was just past three in the morning.

She walked out of the kitchen and stilled outside the door to the cupboard. She no longer heard the barky cough but she could still hear the slight wheezing. Her jaw tightened as she stomped back up the stairs. She changed quickly out of her clothes and back into her nightgown. She slid into bed next to Vernon with an audible huff. In response, Vernon merely snorted in his sleep.


End file.
